Dinner with a Siren
by Lailara
Summary: Darien and Dorian meet Milner Brantley for the first time. Written in the same vein as "To Shatter the Silence is the Greatest Sin" and "The Rest of Your Life.


Title: Dinner with a Siren  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Darien/OFC: Dorian (She's back!)  
Distribution: My site, QSArchive, FanFiction.net; anyone else who wants it, ask me.  
Summary: Dorian and Darien meet Milner Brantley for the first time.  
Author's notes: Dorian's POV. )()()()()()( = changes POV to Darien.  
Disclaimer: I pretty much own everything except Darien Fawkes. He belongs to Stu Segal, SciFi, etc. 

***** 

I can't believe I actually got him here. But here he is, slouching, rumpling his tux in the cramped seating of the concert hall. 

"Darien, if you sat up, you'd have more room for your legs," I whisper in his ear. 

"When's this thing supposed to start?" he grumbles. 

"It starts at eight. Only five more minutes, Dare. Stop your bitching." 

I should have left him at home, seeing as he'd most definitely be happier there. I just wanted my husband to have a little culture, damn it; is that so wrong? 

Finally, the orchestra quiets, the lights go down, and Darien sighs heavily, "Finally." 

Rolling my eyes, I jab him with my elbow before laying my hand lightly on his knee. His long, graceful fingers curl around mine as he exhales in submission to the night's entertainment. 

The deep, blood red velvet curtains open to reveal a slip of a woman. She can't be more than 5'7" or 8", making me two inches taller than her. Her long blonde curls are pinned into a loose, almost careless crown, tendrils hanging in her face and on her slender shoulders and neck. If I were closer, I'd be willing to say that her eyes are green, but from this distance, I'm not going to venture a guess. 

She's dressed in a simple white gown, flowing to the floor, lace trimmed in gold acting as a top layer of the dress. Her eyes, shining under the glare of the stage lights, flutter slightly, and the music begins. 

Darien sits up and inhales deeply, exhales, and slinks back down in his seat. 

The girl on stage takes in a lungful of air and opens her mouth to sing. The notes that flow from her are the graced notes of Apollo's lute. Her beautiful soprano voice is joined in harmony with a dark, busty alto that personifies the stereotype of the Viking helmet wearing opera singer. 

The melody clashes and winds with the countermelody, ending in a dramatic, ear-piercingly high last note. Around me, I can feel people rising out of their seats to applaud the duet's musical accomplishment, and as much as I want to, I can't stand. I can only sit in shock. 

My head pivots to look at my beloved, who is sitting slack-jawed, staring at the stage. I regain my senses and stand, applauding as loudly as I can. My leg thrusts sharply at Darien, kicking him hard, and he jets out of his chair, hands slapping together in wild enjoyment. 

When the standing ovation dwindles, I sit back in my seat, searching in my purse for my program. I have to know who that divine soprano voice belongs to. 

My eyes fall on the name and a smile plays on my lips... "Milner Brantley," I whisper. A name I shall not soon forget. 

***** 

"Milner Brantley?" I ask briskly. I've finally made my way backstage. In my determination to reach this girl, I think I've managed to leave my husband behind, but I'm not bothered by this. I know he'll catch up eventually. 

Her head jerks up, green-grey eyes wide in surprise. "Yes?" she says softly. She certainly is beautiful. 

I extend my arm, palm up, and she grasps my hand timidly. "I'm Dorian Slater-Fawkes, and I just wanted to tell you that you have the most gorgeous voice I have ever heard, my dear." 

A blush paints her fair skin as she bows her head slightly. "Thank you, Dorian. That's very kind of you to say." 

I shake my head, "It's a very true thing for me to say." Darien comes up behind me and lays a hand on my shoulder. "Milner, this is my husband, Darien Fawkes. Dare, this is Milner Brantley. The soprano from the first piece, if you remember." 

He smiles and shakes her hand, "Great to meet you. You've got quite a voice there." 

The blush has returned to her face, and she smiles. "Thank you very much." 

"Milner, I'd like to take you to dinner. That is, if you don't have plans." I want to get to know this girl; she intrigues me. 

"No, I don't have plans. Where would you like to meet?" 

I turn to look at Darien, and turn back to her. "The Garden. In half an hour. Sound good?" 

She grins and nods. "Sounds good." 

"See you then, Milner." I turn and begin walking to the door, my arm linked in Darien's. "I think I like her, Darien." 

He just laughs and opens the door for me. 

***** 

"So, Milner, how long have you been singing?" Darien inquires. We've been sitting at this table for two hours, getting to know this most interesting woman. She's no longer the girl I thought I'd seen on stage, but a fascinating woman of the finest cut of cloth. 

"Since I was little. My grandfather heard me singing one day when I was working on a new painting, and he paid for voice lessons until I was 17. He always encouraged me," she says, a wistful smile dancing on her face. 

"Why did you stop taking lessons?" I ask. I'm prying, I know, but I can't help myself. 

"My mother told me to stop my wishful thinking and concentrate on my studies. But I'm in college now, and she can't stop me from performing. Even if she won't come see me." Her eyes close for a moment, and I think she is regaining her composure. Mommie dearest has certainly upset darling Milner. Her eyes snap open and that gorgeously innocent blush paints her face again. "Wow, you know my life story by now, and I know nothing about you!" 

Darien looks at me with a hint of terror in his eyes. I smile and reply, "I'm a student at the college as well. The division of Forensic Psychology. Darien's a free-lancer." 

"Ah, unemployed?" She laughs, her whole body moving with her amusement. "Wait, did you say 'Forensic Psychology'?" 

I nod an affirmative. 

"Wow, I'm in plain ol' Clinical Psych. But I'm like you, Darien: a free-lancer." Her stormy eyes seem to brighten and dim like the waves of the beaches not far from our home. "But singing as a street performer is quite lucrative most of the time, so I don't bother looking for some actual work. My roommates take care of most of the bills and stuff, so I don't have to worry about that." 

"Nice setup." Darien smiles as if contemplating something in his far out mind. He glances at his watch and exhales noisily. "Look at that, Dori. You've got class in the morning." 

"So, I do. Milner, it's been fun, doll. Do you have a phone number we can reach you at? We must do this again." 

She smiles and pulls out a pen. Her name and performance location are scrawled on the napkin, her phone number is very legible, however. 

"See you around, Darien, Dorian." 

"See you around, Milner." I smile and walk toward the door, purposely ignoring the check laying on the table. I hope Milner walks away from it, too. 

***** 

The last three weeks have truly been a blast. Milner is now a permenant staple in our lives. Darien goes down to listen to her at least once a day to bring her coffee and food. She's basically moved in with us, she's always around our place when she's not singing or in class. 

A friend of mine has told me to beware of Milner's reactions to Darien. She wouldn't dare. They spend a lot of time together, sure, but Darien wouldn't do that to me. 

I know he wouldn't. 

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()( 

"So." 

"So." 

"Show me yours, I'll show you mine," she dares. 

Now, I was never one to accept a dare, but this one is too good to pass up. I empty my pockets on the table. A diamond ring, three wallets, and a money clip lay on the table like an offering. 

Smiling, she says, "Nice haul, D." She proceeds to empty the secret compartment in her guitar case. A pearl necklace -- how the hell did she get that? -- a pair of wallets, and a gold cigarette case that has the initials "XDL" on it stare at me. 

Great, she outdid me again! "How do you do it, Miln?" 

"Just a flick of the wrist, D." She demonstrates by giving me a hug. "Check your wallet, man." I do, and it's gone. The smile on her face gives her away before she produces my wallet. "What can I say? Rich old people like to hug." 

We start putting the loot into the safe, and my mind wonders. Inevitably, my voice follows my mind, "Miln? Pickpocketing is all well and good, but what about something else?" 

"Like what, D?" 

"An actual job." 

"Like something along the lines of B and E?" 

"Sure. Picking's a nice stash for a while, but are we going to do that for the rest of our lives? I'd rather be able to retire a little earlier than that." 

"Got something in mind?" 

I grin. "Of course, Miln. Of course." 

***** 

It's perfect. She's great at this stuff, almost as good as Liz. Why did Liz have to leave? I'd kill for her help in this. Ok, not kill, but still, it'd be nice. 

"Ok, go over it again?" Her eyes sparkle with hopefulness, and I can't help but smile. 

We review the plan four more times before calling it a day to head down to the docks and pick up a few bucks and trinkets for the safe. 

We always do well with the pickpocket stuff, but I now know she's just been itching for a partner. 

She told me about her past jobs in high school. She told me about her brother Charles, who made a fortune pulling off a huge job and left home when he was 17. She remembered him waking her up to say that he was leaving. He'd taught her well, I'll give the boy that. 

Our haul from the evening's work is as good as ever, and we pick up Dorian and go out to dinner. I have to wonder if she's suspicious about us. 

***** 

The locks on the patio door of the apartment are simple. Far too simple for what's waiting inside. 

I slip in and go to the front door. I open it, welcoming her smiling face. I know her eyes are dazzling behind the dark Ray-Bans; they're so expressive, her eyes. 

She sets the bag down on the floor and begins unloading the equipment. I touch her arm and shake my head. 

The painting hanging in front of the wall safe has to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen, but the safe is so easy to crack, I figure that the painting is supposed to be some line of freaky security. 

The black velvet cloth almost deceives me. My first thought is jewels, but I unwrap it anyway, and breathe a silent sigh of relief when it reveals a set of antique silverware. Hell, they might be platinum for all I know. 

I hand them to her and dig through the safe some more, looking for the prize. It's hidden behind a crappy secret panel. I break it open and pull out the money. Forty thousand in cold, hard cash. 

I toss the cash to her, lock the safe back up, and replace the hideous painting. 

She slings the bag up on her shoulder and smiles at me. Locking the door behind her, she looks like she's just leaving for a night on the town, not leaving with the real owner's money in hand. 

I swing myself off the edge of the building and sail down to the car below, thinking of that all so simple job. 

***** 

Okay, so the silverware was silver, but it still caught a pretty penny at the pawn shop. 

When you add the forty thousand to the silverware and the loot from four weeks of pickpocketing on the pier, it comes up to about 68 grand, which we split fifty-fifty, naturally. Still, thirty-four thousand was enough to buy a car and catch up on Dorian's tuition payments. 

Dorian has to know about my work. There's no way in hell she can't know. She's never even asked how I came up with that money, she might not care for all I know. 

What I do know is that I love working with Milner and loving Dorian and living my life the way I want to. If Kevin could see me now. 

***** 

FIN~ 


End file.
